I watch silently, waiting to be heard.

I listen to the stroke of your pen, as it hits the paper grain,

to the incessantly strike of the keys – watching you, lurking in the shadows.

I caress your mind, blow softly the cobwebs of your imagination, awaiting …

Hear me, see me, feel me, make me into reality.

I want to exist; I yearn to come alive, to breath in the pages of your soul – to be.

Light my shadow, pull the curtain – I’m behind, waiting … to be written.

Write me, I am the character left behind.